


Red Hands

by Analiila



Category: Marvel, Marvel 1602, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Death, Magic, Middle Ages, Multi, War, also a lot of parent/child moments because why not, and gay medieval fighting girls, disabled people fighting against the world because fuck you
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-01-12
Packaged: 2018-09-17 02:18:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9299744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Analiila/pseuds/Analiila
Summary: She remembered the day S.H.I.E.L.D. fell. All had been caused by that witch. Maybe they'd been stupid, thinking they could take her down like that. They'd only ever been humans after all. But now all had been gone for years and it was all behind them. Until maybe, someday, the witch returned. And with her, all the troubles they could ever think of.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, this is a new story. This had been started as this year's Nanowrimo and isn't totally written but it should come. I've loved 1602 - Witch Hunter Angela with my own soul so here is a little story about witches in the Marvel Universe. I hope you'll enjoy it because I love that story. 
> 
> You can come and say hi to me on Tumblr, I'm @lunatic-analiila there. 
> 
> Have a nice reading time!

The ashes were burning her throat as if it was on fire. She could barely breathe, and every time she could, her breathing was thick and heavy. Her elbow pained her, and she couldn’t lift her sword up anymore. Blood was covering her face, she’d lost her helmet at some point in the battle, she didn’t know when. She could feel the spear running through her left side but she tried to move anyway, only to fall back to the ground with pain. She didn’t want to cry. She didn’t want to. She was stronger than that, she thought. She could lift herself up, she knew it. She could. But just trying to push on her hands to do so was the most painful thing she’d ever felt.

She’d promised herself not to cry but she couldn’t help herself. She didn’t know if the battle was still going on, and if it was she couldn’t hear anything but the moaning of the injured soldiers, those who were just like her. It was her fault, she thought. She’d been leading them to this day and now all was gone. Her precious army, those soldiers she was so proud to call friends, they were all dead, all dead because of her. Tears were running on her cheeks, cleaning up the dust and blood covering them. When they dropped on the flour, they weren’t as perfect as when they were born in her eyes. They were dirty, an awful mix between dark red and dust grey. 

“Don’t cry. Please, please don’t cry…”

The voice was soft, trying to reassure her. She blinked but couldn’t see anything but someone’s shape. The person was pale, very pale, more than she’d ever seen anyone be. There was fire around their head, moving with the wind but never dying. An eternal flame that moved softly. The soldier was fascinated, never had she seen such bright and soft fire. She felt like she wanted to put her hand in it, as if it couldn’t hurt her. But that was stupid. It was fire. Wasn’t it ?

“Are you Death?” The soldiers asked, still crying like never before. Words didn’t come easily, blocked by the dust cluttering her throat.  
“You’re not dead, fair one. I’m here to help you.”

Help, something they hadn’t even been hoping for. They had asked help to the king but all he had been able to say was that he didn’t believe in their fight. In his eyes, they were nothing but a bunch of lunatics who believed in fiddle-faddle. At the beginning of the fight, she’d hoped they’d get some help at some point, she really had. The king couldn’t be so blind once he’d known there’d been a fight he could only send his army and understand they’d been right all along. But no one came and they were all alone. 

Could that fire person really help them? Could they really win with her help? One person would never be enough to defeat she who they were fighting against. She was so powerful, and her army so strong. So many of them died that day. So many of them were lost to the enchanted blades of their enemies. She’d seen friends die, people she considered her family. She always thought of them as her family and she was the head of it. Her and Phil. She turned her head to the direction in which she’d last seen him. If she was to die, he’d take the leadership all by himself. Assuming he wasn’t dead. Assuming there was still something to lead.

When she looked back at the person with their head on fire, they weren’t there anymore. They’d left her alone in this battlefield like she’d been for hours. She wondered how much time it’d take her to die. She wondered if she would die. Maybe she’d better die. She couldn’t live with the thought that she killed the Shield. She couldn’t and she knew it. It would destroy her more than death would. So it was probably better to end things here. 

Someone grabbed her from behind, their fingers taking her hair firmly to have her straighten up, on her knees. The hand that took the broken spear in her right side belonged to a man, she was almost sure of that. It was full of scars and wounds, with blood all over it. She tried to stop crying, she knew she was about to get killed and she didn’t want to go like that, crying like the little girl she used to be. 

“Not at your best right now, hey, Maria?” The words she hears make her heart as cold as the snow in the north. She stops crying for a minute, too dazed to do or say anything. “Don’t worry. You’re just as perfectly pathetic as I pictured you would be.”

The voice is not unknown to her, she knows it perfectly. The words it says aren’t even mean, they’re just the bearer of joyful exuberance, that of one who knows they’ve won. How many times had he been under their enemy’s influence? What had he told her about their conversations, the little confidence she’d had with him. She feels blood pouring fast from her wound, right where the spear once was. Yet it could never be as fast as was the feelings pouring from her heart, letting her empty once and for all.

“Jasper… You’re with her. How…” She can’t talk well, she feels so empty. She just wants to end all this. She just wants to end it now. She just wants all this to be over. Will the gods keep playing with her? Will they keep her alive as long as they can and watch hr suffer? “How long have… be… been und… er her sp… spells ?”  
“I’m not, Maria… I’ve never been.” Jasper put a hand on her face to pull her against his chest. 

She couldn’t see him, he was still on her back, but she knew what he was going to do. Stab in the throat, aim to the chinstrap. She wouldn’t die immediately. The blood would fill up her lungs and she’d drown in it. It wouldn’t take hours, but it would take a few minutes. At least she’d be sure not to live after that. She closed her eyes. She’d always thought she’d die valiantly, her eyes open to see death itself taking her. But she couldn’t. She wasn’t brave. She wanted to die but still she was afraid. 

Maria never heard the sound of metal tearing into living flesh. When you were in the middle of the battle, you didn’t pay attention to that. You were focused, trying to survive and trying to end your opponent. She’d never paid attention to a sound she’d heard so many times before, but this time was different. There was nothing else but the beating of her own heart. She didn’t know when the spear would strike her. She could only wait for it. That’s when she heard the blade going through one’s flesh, right next to her left ear. She didn’t feel anything, she wasn’t drowning in her own blood. So she opened her eyes to see another spear, not the broken one from her right side, a new one. She felt Jasper getting heavier and heavier on her back and with all the strength she had left in her, she pushed him. His already lifeless body fell to the ground, his open eyes watching nothing but the vague emptiness of the thick and dark smoke hiding the sky.

Maria was about to fall herself but someone grabbed her by the uninjured arm and supported her. She couldn’t help but laugh, she was alive. She didn’t want to be but she was. There was always something to extend her agony. She recognized the guy helping her and she smiled even more. There was some real joy in this smile. That was Phil. He was alive and not in a bad shape it seemed. Maria put her head on his shoulder as he tried to have her standing.

“She’s winning, Phil…” She wasn’t able to produce more than whispers, but he was close enough to hear it. He used all the strength he could to lift her with her armor.

“She’s not. She’s going to lose and you know it. It’s in her nature.” He barely finished his sentence. The second after, his back was suddenly arched by the red sword of energy that stabbed him. He couldn’t lift Maria anymore, he couldn’t even lift himself, and both them fell to the ground.

Maria landed on Phil’s chest, something she was sure he did on purpose to protect her. She didn’t know who had attacked them but she noticed a dagger on her right and she stretched her arm in hope to grab it. Before she could, a shoe stepped on her hand and squeezed it. Maria moaned in pain and gave Phil a worried look. He didn’t look back to her, he had trouble breathing. His chest was bleeding and they were already surrounded by a pool of his blood.

“Your army has been massacred. Your fortress has been burned to the ground. I’m not going to win. I have.” The voice had some weird accent she couldn’t recognize, something that reminded her of the latverian one, yet a little more melodious.

Near her ear, Maria could hear Phil stop breathing. She balled her fist with rage and pulled her hand from the feet of her enemy. She turned to have her back against the dirt of the ground, facing her opponent, the one they’d been after all this time.

Their enemy had light brown eyes, like the color of some trees Maria had seen back home in the north. She had long and brown hair that floated within the air without any logic, not following the direction of the wind. Her big brown eyes seemed sweet and for a moment Maria couldn’t believe she was facing the evil one they’d chased for so many years. She emitted an aura of sadness and warmth, like Maria could sometimes feel looking at the rain through the window, sitting near the hearth of the foyer of the fortress. The woman had red beams of magic floating around her hands. She looked at Maria like she was sorry. 

That’s the last thing Maria saw before falling into the darkness. The sad look and red hands of the Scarlet Witch.

**Author's Note:**

> Yep, you have every right to scream if you want. I hope you enjoyed it and let me know what you thought of it in the comments :)
> 
> I don't know when chapter 1 will come, but he's already ready so beware, for everything may have ended, but they have barely started.


End file.
